


Big Daddy

by trepidatingboarfetus



Category: Grand Theft Auto Series (Video Games), Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: A Little Birthday Comedic Smut, Franklin also needs brain bleach now, He also can't stop quoting from movies, He really has a problem, M/M, Michael loves it when you call him Big Daddy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:41:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28474098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trepidatingboarfetus/pseuds/trepidatingboarfetus
Summary: (A birthday present for a friend.)Those hot summer nights in the hood unleash a lot of funny secrets about people.
Relationships: Michael De Santa/Trevor Philips
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	Big Daddy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mourn3d](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mourn3d/gifts).



> This was written for a friend's birthday. I was already working on a bit of this, but a conversation about Ned Luke calling himself Big Daddy really rewrote some of this lmao. We talked about Michael using the same terminology for himself because it just hits like that, then I joked about him changing the words to Big Poppa, and I fell in love with this weird mess, so this was born. <3 I love angst and smut, but dammit, I love comedy too. If you can't tell by that little Al Pacino movie quote wisecrack toward the end there lol.

Summer evenings were meant to be as lax as this, bumping to the classics, chilling with the homies after the day’s grind, on the way to the local dive to throw back a few...and it maybe didn’t hurt that one homie owned that dive so everyone could look at some fine-ass women while getting fucked six ways from Sunday on some of the best shit The Unicorn had to offer. 

But at that moment they were still cruising the La Puerta Freeway, getting ready to head back toward South Los Santos, and suddenly the air was filled with the sounds of one of Lamar’s favorite legendary slow jams from back in the old days when they were still running around the sandbox barely out of diapers. He settled into a familiar easy smile when he watched Lamar pop alongside him to the rhythm that Biggie Smalls, Junior M.A.F.I.A., and Sean Combs had laid down so long ago.

But what neither of them expected was for both of their old white mentors in the back seats to hop up and down like fish flopping on a dry deck with panicked enthusiasm. No one wanted to see Trevor grin so sadistically as he rammed Michael in the side with his elbow or hear him shout emphatically, “Mikey knows this song, remember eh?”

Or the follow-up with Michael clearing his throat while blushing and declaring, “But I prefer to be called Big Daddy, T.”

Everything in the car went deadly silently until Trevor and Lamar burst into peals of laughter, and poor Franklin kept eyeing the rearview mirror, not exactly sure if it was safe as he gazed at the harrowing look in Mike’s eyes. He kept that shit wrapped up tightly on the inside.

At least until the chorus.

“I love it when you call me Big Daddy,” Michael sang along to the lyrics without a care in the world, and that is when Frank couldn’t help it anymore. He’d held it in long enough, goddamn.

For all the good it did him to release the tension because he ended up with a crashing slap to the back of his head as they pulled up to The Vanilla Unicorn. “Was there something fucking funny about that to you, Franklin? C’mon kid, show a man some respect about his preferred nomenclature!” 

“Yeah, T,” he mumbled to himself, grateful the goddamn song was off, and he was away from it. Now he could get on with the rest of the evening’s festivities with Lamar, just as planned. 

After an hour of hitting the Hennessey hard and the blunts harder, he stumbled around, not really knowing what he was doing or where he was going, only knowing he was bored and curious as to where the fuck Michael and Trevor had disappeared to fifteen minutes earlier, never to be seen from since. Trevor had bitched about having business that needed attending to, and shit if he didn’t feel fucking slighted that he wasn’t included. 

There was rustling around back in the managerial offices, and suddenly there was Trevor’s voice lowly, very sultrily whispering, “Come on, Big Daddy, why don’t you show me what you’ve got?”

Franklin stopped himself just short but saw enough: a red-faced T with beads of sweat dotting his skin everywhere catching streams of rainbow-colored light, his eyes glazed over in something more akin to love than lust, bent before his desk, and behind him was Michael with the world’s darkest grin on his face, stroking himself slowly, almost wantonly. 

His eyes were so very blue, like deep vicious pools. 

It made Frank honestly wonder for a moment in his hazy mind which one was worse or if both were equals in that aspect. And maybe that’s why they worked like this. 

“Say hello to my little friend!”

“Jesus Christ, Mikey!! Will you stop with the goddamn movie quotes in the middle of every fucking thing we do! It’s like a mental illness or something, I swear!!”

Frank backtracked from the scene, quietly laughing to himself and shaking his head. He loved these two guys like the father he’d never had, but there were just some things you needed erasing from your brain sometimes. What a lovely night in the hood.


End file.
